Justin Raimondo has written one of those pieces you fall upon, crying, Finally, finally. … that relieve or at least name one of those sliver-under-the-skin people who so drastically get on the nerves: “The Joan Walsh Syndrome.” We shall take up the more sorrowful and difficult task of why she ruined Salon at a later date.
But Raimondo has nailed one truly aggravating aspect of Ms.Walsh, and it is that, ta-da, of
the well-meaning Bay Area liberal.
Quel horror. Nothing makes us look more like fools than that. Nothing gives off that boring, Birkenstock, eye-glazing Northern California vibe.
And nothing makes us look more lightweight as women, dammit, Joan. Hell, my mother could whip up a better retort to Christopher Hitchens than “You’ve had dinner at my house.”
Honey, if you can’t do it, find someone on staff who can. We don’t all have the gift. We don’t all have someone to tell us this very thing—you a lucky girl. You got me.
Exuding reasonableness from every pore, she radiates a kind of diffuse benevolence modified only by a slight wrinkling of the brow–a measure of her concern that someone, somewhere, is suffering from an overlooked injustice.
Oh, my. Liberals are sooo fucked. Yes we got Obama in, but this exemplifies the contempt in which we are held by all those fly-over non-Liberals out there, which need not be. I shouldn’t need to call myself a Radical just because I don’t run my words thru the Isn’t-Life-Smooth filter of every PBS program special ever made.
Let this not be painful, but a lesson. In all kindness, Joan, grow a pair. Grow a pair for Obama.
